Summary: "Everybody needs somebody, House. Even you." HouseWilson pre-slash, implied HouseStacy
Author's Note: I could so be watching season 2 right now… I borrowed the DVDs from my friend— I finished S1 in four days. That's right. Four. All I did was eat, sleep, go to school, and watch House, no joke. But apparently doing that is also giving me a muse overload, so I'm cranking out everything that comes to mind instead. Don't let all my energy go to waste. Please review!
After over thirty minutes of raised voices and arguments, Wilson watched House storm out the back door of his office onto the balcony and hurl his cane at the ground, annoyance clearly visible on his face. His movements were jerky and tense. Before Wilson could decide to wait a while to go outside and join him, House beat him to the punch.
"Oh, don't even start," he yelled. Tossed a rock at the glass door, catching Wilson staring. "I'm not going to rip your head off. Get your ass out here."
The cool evening air blew Wilson's hair when he opened the door. He regarded his friend through narrowed eyes, leaning back against the cement wall that kept him from plummeting god-only-knows how many stories below. "I didn't want to—" he started, knowing already that it was pointless.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," House interrupted. "She's gone, in case you were wondering. For good."
"You called it. And I believed you," House admitted, pale blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. "I just ignored… the whole thing. I didn't want to. You know. Think about it. Not in the long run."
"I wouldn't have, either. You're not God. People mess up, it's a part of life."
"Yeah, well. I don't need her anyway. It's for the best."
Wilson shook his head. "Everybody needs somebody, House. Even you."
House turned his head to look Wilson full in the face. "I don't."
A heavy cloud of silence hung over the adjoined balcony after that. House popped some more Vicodin into his mouth and closed his eyes against the breeze.
"You're wrong," Wilson said simply, and didn't back down when House opened his eyes and glowered at him. "You need me."
House's eyes stayed locked with his for a long time. Seconds ticked by. It could have even been minutes, or half an hour. To Wilson, time was suspended as he tried to decipher the emotion behind the eyes that could betray everything or hide everything at House's will. Wilson was unwavering in his mission to find something, no matter what.
And there it was. A flicker of appreciation. Wilson's blood warmed despite the chilly wind blowing around him. His lips curved into a slow smile. "See?"
House looked startled; Wilson mentally filed away that reaction for another time. "Maybe I am," House said slowly, his gaze still on Wilson, who shrugged casually and turned to re-enter his office.
"You know where to find me," the oncologist tossed over his shoulder just before the door closed behind him.
House went home that night determined that there was no way that was the end of that conversation. At three in the morning, he was still wide awake, tossing and turning over that thing his stomach had done when Wilson had looked at him like that. Frustrated to no end, it was only when the sun began to rise when he finally fell into a restless sleep.
Something to think about. Or perhaps obsess. Who knew?